


Never Asked for This

by AQA473



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alt!max, Alternate Timeline, F/F, Vicxine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQA473/pseuds/AQA473
Summary: After Max refuses to kill her best friend, she returns to her old timeline, to fix her mistakes. A different Max wakes up, now left to deal with the consequences of the time-traveler's actions.





	

“Just go, Max.”

“It’s Maxine.” The words fall from my mouth like dust. The world blurs. A… bed? Someone’s in it, somewhat familiar. It’s, um, Chloe? Chloe Price, my childhood friend? Why… what am I- is this her house, her room? How did I get here?

Burning! Pain spikes my brain. Holding my head, images flash over my eyelids. A bus… door, Mr. Price. Chloe, in a wheelchair…

“Max, what’s going on?”

“I-I need to go,” I gasp. Still holding my head, I stumble to the door. There’s a board in here with junk from Chloe’s life. One of the things is a letter I sent her a while back.

“Yeah, you better.”

The rest of her house looks the same. Blinking, I see myself, sitting at the table, talking to Chloe’s dad, reminiscing over the past, apologizing. When did I do any of this?

“Max?”

Oh, shit, it’s her dad. “Uh,” I sputter.

“Max,” he repeats. “Are you ok?”

“Y-yeah. Um, could you, like, take me to the school?”

“Oh, right, I guess you have school still, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, exactly.” Every word feels like a knife to my brain. Why is he acting so casual? I blew them off months ago. This must be a dream. Yeah, that’s it. I probably smoked too much at the last Vortex club party and now I’m having dumb, psychedelic dreams.

I slap myself. Nope, still here. I do it again.

“Max, Max! What’s wrong? Joyce, come down here! Max is sick!”

“No, no, I just need to get out of here, I promise.” I back away, putting space between us as he reaches for me. “Just take me to school, please.” Okay, it’s a very real dream. Maybe if I fall asleep in my bed in the dream, I’ll wake up in reality. That makes sense, kinda.

William comes closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

“What’s wrong?” Joyce’s heavy accent fills the room as she comes up to William.

Another flash in my head; bills, a frown, brushed concerns. She’s terrified, scared of being destitute and unable to help her daughter. This is one shitty dream. Or nightmare.

“I don’t know, she came out of Chloe’s room holding her head and started hitting herself.”

“Oh, dear. Oh! She’s holding herself, again! Max, honey, come sit down.”

I push them both aside, walking straight for the door. Everything looks just like it did five years ago, maybe with less objects, more bills. More flashes, images of numbers, abandoned ambitions, cheap food.

“Max!” They both say in unison.

“Look, guys, I’m fine. Just take me to the school. I’ll sit in the car.” The pain in my head makes me wonder if I’ll make it that far.

They talk behind me, but I’m already at the door and can’t make out what they say. The door opens, unlocked, and I trudge outside. It’s bright, warm. What time is it? Can’t be past twelve. Where was I last?

I was sitting with the Vortex club, outside the school after classes. The dying sunlight warmed my face as the air chilled. Nathan’s cheap beer swam in my belly, the vestiges of our last joint idled in my head. Then… nothing. Someone was talking opposite me, and I never heard the end.

More images, and some words. Victoria’s face. Max, never Maxine. Did I say that to her?

This is too weird, even for a dream.

“Max, stay still.” William comes up behind me, keys jingling in his hand. The door shuts behind us. “Joyce is staying here with Chloe. I’ll take you back, but please, don’t hesitate to call us if you need a ride to the hospital. We practically have them on speed dial.”

“I-I’ll be fine, thanks, Mr. Price.”

“Please, Max, after all these years, call me William.”

“Right.” I drift again, catching myself on the porch rail.

“Ok, let’s get you sitting.”

He helps me to the car. I hardly feel him buckle me in.

The drive is a blur, green trees, gray buildings, all vanishing in my peripheral. Images continuously stream over my eyes. Sitting worried on the bus, seeing buildings pass by and only thinking of Chloe.

I sent her a text, telling her I’d come see her when I got back from Seattle, then never did. I haven’t gotten myself to meet her. I’ve been busy, busy with school, my own family, friends. I just didn’t have time. What moved me? And now she’s, what, a cripple? What on earth happened in the last five years? No more drinking and smoking at the same time. Bad shit always happens.

In no time at all, we’re at Blackwell. I give William a short goodbye and walk to the dorms. I think there’s class today, if this isn’t a dream, but I can hardly move, let alone listen to some boring-ass lecture. Like I want to hear Ms. Grant ramble about another dumb folktale.

Everyone’s in class, so I don’t run into anyone. A couple skaters and punks are out, ditching, of course, but they avoid me.

“Whoa, Max, you look blazed.” I can’t tell who it is, some guy. He skates past me as I enter the dorms’ courtyard.

“Fuck off,” I say.

He laughs behind me.

The climb upstairs is almost unbearable. Every move feels like a thousand needles pricking my skin and muscles. So many images of events I never witnessed continue pouring into my head. I break into my room, the door flying open. I shut it behind me, fall onto my bed, and stare at the wall.

Band posters and photo prints hang opposite me. I can’t tell what’s on them. Everything hurts.

\---

Failing to fall asleep, I sit up, and watch foreign thoughts stream in like a bad tv station. A bad movie from my childhood, sharing food with abandoned friends, hoping that every piece of bad news has something with it to soften the blow and being disappointed every time.

“Maxine? Shit, I mean, Max, Mad Max, are you in there?” Victoria. Her voice is muffled through the door. “Courtney said she heard you come in a few hours ago. Are you okay? You just left suddenly yesterday. I tried calling you, but- What?” Her voice lowers as she presumably talks to someone with her. “Max? Look, I’ll be back later. Please call me when you can, okay? I’m- we’re all worried about you.” Then she’s gone.

Her face fills my head. Concerned, surprised, confused. Max, never Maxine. I never say that. Only Chloe calls me Max, and I’ve left that life behind. Haven’t I? I can’t take this.

I fall onto my side, eyes close, only to be assaulted by more flashbacks. I groan as they wash over me. All these experiences, these moments, they aren’t mine! Who hijacked my body and went on a nostalgia spree? Not to mention Chloe’s apparently paralyzed now; when did that happen? I have an essay due by the end of the week, I don’t have time for this stuff! Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a-

\---

Dream. My light’s on. Sitting up, the world feels clear. It’s dark outside. A bird pecks at the window before flying away. Yeah, just a dream. I sigh, standing up. Wait, all my clothes are still on. My bed’s untouched, except for a vague imprint of my body. My phone!

I pull my phone out, still in my pocket for some reason, and look at the messages.

Fifteen missed calls from Victoria, one from Taylor, and too many messages to count from most of the Vortex club. The messages range from confusion to concern. The last one is from Victoria.

[I have class please call soon]

So, it’s real. Either this is a long-ass dream or it all really happened. My body stood up and walked away, taking me to the house of my childhood best friend who is paralyzed, and spent the night watching shitty movies and crying. I…

I fall back on my bed, hands clenching my head. Now what? What happened to me? What the fuck is going on!?

A door closes outside. Finally, another person! I stand and walk to the door, but my leg collapses under me, pins pinching my nerves, and fall on the ground.

“Max!”

“Maxine…” I groan, reaching for the door.

“Max!” The door flies open, barely missing my hand, Victoria standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts, her pajamas. I helped her pick out the shorts a month ago; pink with the word “QUEEN” on the back. Her eyes look red and wet.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” She stoops down and helps me up. “Gross, you smell like,” she stops. She’s close, only a few inches from my face. Even this late at night, she smells clean. Creases line the skin under her eyes. She never lets her appearance go like this. A smile comes on her face. “Who cares? I was so-” She stops mid-hug. A part of me wants her to do it.

“So-sorry. Um, I’m glad you’re okay. Where were you? We were all worried sick. All day, Max!”

“Please, Vicky, Maxine. I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I prefer Maxine, really.”

She grins again. She hugs me anyway. “You were acting so weird yesterday, I thought maybe Nathan’s pot got to you,” she said, pulling back. She was warm.

“Who knows, maybe it did. I have no idea what happened.” I rub the back of my neck. “Actually, um, do you have a minute?” I need to tell someone. Maybe she’ll know more.

“Right, right now?” She looks behind her into the hallway. She’s holding a bulging towel, likely holding the things she needs for a shower.

“You look busy. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow. I feel loads better, anyway.”

“No, I have time, it’s fine.”

I blink. “Oh, ok. Um, could you close the door, then? I don’t want anyone else hearing me.”

Her face practically lights up. I’m not so sure what that means.

She shuts the door, puts her shower stuff on my bed, and we both sit on my couch. The springs squeak in protest. Victoria always gives me a hard time about the cheap furniture I have, but she doesn’t seem the least bit interested in it right now. Her eyes fasten themselves to me.

I tell her everything I remember. I list off everything that happened, that felt like a dream of someone else’s, then when I “woke up” at Chloe’s bedside, and eventually got to my dorm. She asked questions throughout, eager to please, I’m sure. She’s a friend, but I often get the feeling that she’s as dedicated to me as she is because of my popularity. Does she really believe anything I say?

“Then I woke up, like, ten minutes ago. Guess it’s not a dream,” I laugh, humorlessly. My polaroid lies on my coffee table in pieces, deconstructed so I can fix it. I dropped it at the start of the week and haven’t gotten around to fixing it. This is as good a time as any.

“Wow.” You’re crazy, I’m sure she’s thinking.

“That’s a word.”

“Well, I mean,” she says.

I see her hand movements in my peripheral, trying to work something out in thin air.

Screws and bars come together nicely, fitting together in a perfect framework. When it’s done, if nothing unseen is damaged, it will serve a specific purpose, and will do so well. Simple, clean, honest. My camera finger is getting itchy.

“Maxine, that sounds crazy.”

I sigh. Of course. “Yeah, I know it sounds like that, I mean, I can hardly-”

A hand comes over my hand, picking my tool and screws from my grip. Victoria pulls my hand and I look at her. She stares me directly in the eyes.

“It sounds crazy, Maxine. But, is it?”

“I… I guess? I think it happened.”

“Then it is crazy, but it’s true.”

“Okay… who are you and what have you done with Victoria?”

She laughs. I mean, genuinely laughs. I’ve heard her drug-induced giggles and humorless ‘ha’s directed at the less popular, but I’ve never heard this, this genuine display of, well, joy?

“I just want you to know I’m your friend. I believe you.” Relief.

I thought maybe Taylor would be better, or Dana, but Victoria… I hope she isn’t lying. I don’t need that shit right now.

“Yeah, sure.”

She gabs my hand.

“Vic, I need to fix my camera.”

“I’m not lying, as long as you aren’t.”

“Victoria, I said everything I know,” I say, tugging my hand away.

“So am I.”

My heart stops in my chest. This is it? I have an ally to my hysteria? No going back now, I guess.

She lets go and leans back in the couch. “Whew, that’s heavy. Don’t you have an essay due this week?”

I scoff. “Yeah.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Yep.” I resume fixing my camera. If she doesn’t interrupt me again, I might be done in a couple minutes. Not that I minded having her hands on mine. Knowing I’m not alone.

“Wanna smoke?”

I toss my tools down. “God, yes!”

Me and Victoria, and Taylor once, have a tradition of sitting beside my open window to smoke, since school security doesn’t like us smoking on campus. It works best when it’s raining.

We take seats on my floor by the window on seat pillows I bought just for this. They’re matted and lumpy from use, but better than the worn carpet. Victoria taps a cigarette out of her pack and passes it to me. I hold my lighter out and we light simultaneously.

Inhaling sharply, I look at her over the tip. She’s looking back.

We blow out our first puffs through the insect guard on the window. If anyone smelled that, they’d know just how much smoke had filtered through it.

Every drag fills my lungs, and every exhale sucks out a measure of tension and anxiety.

“So, you missed class today?”

“Obviously.” A puff of smoke gets sucked into the night air without a trace.

“Hayden was really funny, today,” she says, blowing smoke outside.

“I don’t care.”

She doesn’t reply. My heart clenches. I want to say ‘sorry’ but my mouth dries. I fill it with smoke.

This breath-caked silence makes me want to turn on music, but my legs feel like jelly. I sit cross-legged, watching our smoke mingle together before vanishing in the night.

“What now?” Victoria’s voice is hoarse. She coughs.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’ This… thing. Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Um, maybe?” I take another drag. I hadn’t thought about it, I just wanted the dream to end. But it’s not a dream, and it’s not ending.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“Kinda.”

She nods. She knows, it’s scary, terrifying. I lost control of my body, to something, and did something I would never do. Now, I don’t know what’s real. What’s even scarier, is this doesn’t feel completely alien.

“Victoria.” I stamp the butt out on my ashtray on the window sill. Victoria still has a couple drags.

“Hm,” she hums, sucking in smoke. I have a sudden urge to catch the smoke as it leaves her mouth.

“Um,” I shake my head. “I, well, this happened before, I think.”

She turns to me so fast she’s still exhaling and breathes smoke all over my face.

I bat around, swiping at the smoke, coughing in the cloud. “Ack! Vicky!”

“Sorry, sorry! Here, maybe if I-,” she reaches over trying to do something but only manages to get the smoke wafting from the tip of her cigarette in my face.

“S-stop!” I can’t stop myself from giggling as I push her away.

“Shit, sorry!” She puts it out and helps me swipe the last vestiges of smoke away.

We sit for a few moments, watching for any elusive stray strands.

“Now I’m thirsty,” she says.

I can’t stop myself from bursting out laughing.

This is so surreal, my body being possessed, seeing Chloe, now I’m in my room smoking with my best friend like nothing’s wrong. She smiles at me, wiping her eye.

“How thirsty?” I don’t know where I’m going with this.

“Like, bottle-of-vodka thirsty.”

I grab her by the neck and pull her in. Tastes of nicotine and chocolate.

Her tongue enters my mouth. It’s not like a boy’s, searching and greedy, but lazily grabs at my teeth, tasting the smoke in my gums. Fingers touch mine on the ground, overlapping with a gentle squeeze.

It only lasts a moment, then we break apart. The smell of her skin sticks to my nose.

“Still thirsty?”

“Um, I don’t- no, no, I’m… heh,” she says, turning away. Her hand pulls back from mine. Is it cold in here?

“Ha, ha, ok, I’ll see if I actually have anything.”

I barely get an inch of the ground before she yanks on my arm. I turn my head and my lips land on hers. Hands grab my neck, pulling me in. That lazy tongue slithers back into me and I fall into her. Fingers pinch the hairs on the back of my neck, tangling my long hair.

Something wet drips into my nose. My heart clenches as I break the kiss. Victoria’s crying.

“Vicky,” I say, reaching for her. She grabs my hand, clenching it until it hurts.

“Do you know how scared I was?” She sniffed, tears dripping down her face. “You always text back. You’ll miss a call, but not fifteen. I didn’t know where you were, or what happened to,” she sputters, obscuring whatever she was about to say.

I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around me.

“I was scared, too. I’m sorry whoever I was didn’t respond to you. It won’t happen again, promise.”  
She bubbles on my shoulder. Jeez, I definitely need to wash this thing.

She sits up a moment later, eyes red, rubbing her hand all over her face. “I’m—snff—sorry. I didn’t mean to get all fucking blubbery on you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“I just, you kissed me and it reminded me, and I, shit.” She looks down on herself. “Now, I really need to take a shower.”

We both laugh, but I can tell she’s hiding something.

“Um, can we continue this later?”

“What? Oh, yeah, of course. Go take your shower. Honestly, I could use one, too.”

“Wait till I’m done with mine!”

I have no time to respond before she grabs her stuff and bolts out the room. She’s definitely hiding something. I hope that kiss didn’t start anything. It was just a spur of the moment, y’know? She just cared so much and I was lonely and confused. She’s my bestie.

I’m awake, might as well get ready for my own shower. Thing is, we’ve showered together before. Don’t know why it’d be weird now.

My phone beeps. I grab it. It’s a message from Chloe’s dad.

Just checking in. You didn’t look so good this morning, and I wanted to thank you for coming by. Please, don’t hesitate to return. I’m sure Chloe will love to see you again.

How do I deal with this? Should I go back, act like whoever took over my body? Act like I care? I mean, I do care, Chloe’s my childhood friend. But I’m doing things right now. Ugh, responsibilities. I thought those didn’t start until you were 21. Or is that drinking? Same thing. I’m drinking already, anyway. Not gonna keep me off of cocktails when they’re in the same room as me.

This whole day’s been fucking weird. First, invasion of the body snatchers, then high school soap opera. Fucking great. I fall onto my bed and clench a pillow over my head until I can’t see any light.

**Author's Note:**

> This, like Max's kiss, was hella spur of the moment. If it ever updates, don't expect it super soon. But hey, if this receives enough attention, I just might update sooner. Depends. Otherwise, I hope you liked it. I've always wanted to write this concept ever since Episode 3 when Victoria calls Max "Maxine."


End file.
